


In This Life I Shall Have Joy

by polka_stripes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (mild imo but still there), (that really wasn't a tag already???), American AU, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Coming Out, Dry Humping, Hand Jobs, Institutional Homophobia, LDS Missionaries AU, M/M, Mormon Missionaries AU, NONE OF THIS IS CANON COMPLIANT, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alternating, Religion talk, Self Harm, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, ah i see handies needed to be two words, don't come here for any kind of canon, handjobs, not quite past conversion therapy but kind of past conversion therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 13:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polka_stripes/pseuds/polka_stripes
Summary: Assigned to be Mormon missionary companions together in Cortez, Colorado, Elders Styles and Tomlinson find a little more joy in their service than they anticipated.





	1. Teach them to love and serve one another

**Author's Note:**

> This story covers a bunch of sensitive themes so read the tags, be good to yourselves, and my ask box is always open if you have questions about what’s in this story!
> 
> There’s a tumblr post explaining all the background info you need to know about LDS Missionaries [here.](http://polkadotsvstripes.tumblr.com/post/166492392163/in-this-life-i-shall-have-joy) A rebloggable fic post is [here,](http://polkadotsvstripes.tumblr.com/post/166492390018/in-this-life-i-shall-have-joy-written-by) and there's one from the artist [here!](http://tomlinshires.tumblr.com/post/166509489125/in-this-life-i-shall-have-joy-art-by)
> 
> Thank you Conchobarians, lights of my life; fic book club, who were magically dropped into my lap the moment I needed them; [Alex](juliusschmidt.tumblr.com), this is all your fault and I love you anyway; [softgolfdaddy](softgolfdaddy.tumblr.com) thank you for beta’ing!! and thank you to everyone who read this and cheerleaded and told me I could get this done. In the famous words of Elle Woods, we did it!
> 
> [tomlinshires](tomlinshires.tumblr.com) made the beautiful art and answered a ton of questions for me while I was writing this, leave a comment or head over to her tumblr to tell her how incredible she is! Huge, huge thank you to the reverse bang moderators, I’m sorry I totally destroyed your posting schedule more than once. 
> 
> N if you find this I applaud your google skills and your intrepidness in making an AO3 account; thank you for your patience and your endless support for everything I take on.

Louis smoothed down his shirt and tie, rumpled after his long  flights and the car ride from the airport with the mission president. The new wrinkles were upsetting; he straightened out his sleeves as best he could before taking a deep breath and raising his fist to knock on the door. 

His suitcase and messenger bag felt like dead weights, a reminder of the serious job ahead of him: the salvation of souls in Cortez, Colorado. He should have been excited, enthusiastic even, about sharing his testimony and helping more people live with their families and the Heavenly Father eternally in celestial heaven. But as he rapped out a pattern on the apartment he'd be sharing with his missionary companion, a young man President Abbott had called Elder Styles, he found himself swallowing down dread. 

He heard a crash behind the door and a low "gosh darn it" before the door opened to reveal....nothing. There was another crash and then the smiling face of his companion popped out from behind the door. "Oops!" 

Yeah, oops. Oops, Louis’ companion had soft wavy hair, dipping over his forehead just barely longer than the standard missionary haircut. Oops, he also apparently had one of the brightest smiles Louis had seen since….well. Since leaving for the MTC, that’s for sure. Oops, and a hint of a dimple. Maybe that was just a shadow from the door. Unlikely, but Louis would take anything he could get to play down his companion’s attractiveness. Oops, this whole “escape your problems and do some good for the Church while you’re at it” plan was one day old and possibly already doomed. 

"Hi? I'm Elder Tomlinson." 

"Oh! Hi! Sorry, just tripped over the shoes, some of the other missionaries are over, it's a big mess....sorry, sorry, I'm rambling, I'm Harry." Harry - Elder Styles - held out his hand. "Er, Elder Styles." Harry moved his hand back before Louis could fumble with his bags to grasp it and scratched sheepishly at the nape of his neck. "I guess, uh, anyway, can I help you with your bags?" 

"No, thank you, I'll just," Louis motioned toward the door with his messenger bag slipping down his arm, "Can I come inside?" 

"Oh yeah! Sure!" Elder Styles opened the door all the way, bending down to move some of the matching black shined shoes out of the way. "Here, let me show you to the room. Niall and Liam, sorry, Elders Horan and Payne, came over for dinner when they found out my new companion was arriving today. They're in the living room." Elder Styles pointed as he led Louis out of the small entryway and headed to the left. Louis paused to take his shoes off and line them up neatly against the wall. He resisted the urge to do the same to the three other pairs scattered on the floor. A chorus of "Hey!" sounded from a ratty couch as he stood up and grabbed his bags again.

"Hi." Louis responded weakly. He looked around the room, at the water condensation from the Elders' glasses on the stained coffee table, a few dust bunnies in the corner, and what looked like a streak on the window. He rolled his shoulders. It was fine. He'd be fine.

Elder Styles took a few steps and opened a door. "Here's us. Your bed is to the right." He gestured around the small room. "Take your time unpacking, the vegetables still need a few minutes." Louis nodded. Elder Styles moved to head back to the kitchen but stopped as he was closing the door behind him. "Elder Tomlinson," Elder Styles paused and pulled at his lip. 

Louis was resolutely not looking at how Elder Styles had organized his half of things in the room and chose to focus on his meticulously packed bag. "Yes?" 

"Nothing, just. Welcome. I'm glad you're here." 

Elder Styles walked into the living room and quietly shut the door behind him. Louis exhaled and unfolded the first of his white shirtsleeves to hang in the closet. 

\--

On Louis’ first Preparation Day, p-day, when he and Harry were able to get groceries and do laundry, Harry watched as Louis spent a significant amount of time (and money) at the nearby Walmart getting cleaning supplies.

“What are you saying about my cleaning, Elder?” Harry halfheartedly joked as Louis was kneeling on the floor, rooting around on the bottom shelf. Louis’ top half was fully in between the metal shelves, his pants stretched tightly over his butt and thighs as he strained to find...well, Harry wasn’t sure, but he also wasn’t complaining. Louis found the last 121 ounce bottle of bleach and hefted it into the cart. 

“Nothing, it’s fine, I just noticed we didn’t have any bleach at the apartment.” Louis continued down the aisle to the stain treatments.

“Well, yeah, sure, because we’ve never needed it.” Harry followed with the cart, scrunching his forehead in confusion.

Louis was surveying the options in front of him, hands on his narrow waist as his eyes moved up and down the shelves. He shrugged and grabbed two different types. 

“Zout and OxiClean? Do we really need all this?” 

Louis sighed. “I couldn’t very well pack them all in my suitcase, could I?” 

“You had all this at the MTC? Why?” 

“Elder Styles, I don’t know if you noticed, but we wear a lot of white shirts. White stains. Cleaning products get stains out.”

“Sure, but so does detergent.” 

“I like clean shirts. And a clean bathroom. And kitchen. So I’m getting cleaning supplies. Unless you prefer not? Speaking of, do we need dust cloths? And I’d like to find a cheap set of coasters, if they’re in the kitchen aisles.” Louis turned out of the detergent aisle into the brooms and mops. 

Harry would find Louis’ apparent stress over the state of the apartment endearing if it didn’t worry him. He thought he kept things perfectly neat at home, but apparently Louis had standards stricter than Mrs. Knappers cleaning up after Young Women’s meetings. Gemma always complained about getting bleach spray on her shirts when she was on clean up duty with her.

“Coasters? I really don’t think that’s necessary.” Harry grabbed his favorite dryer sheets, the ones his mom used at home, threw them in the cart and turned to follow Louis. “The furniture from the church is looking worse for wear anyway.”

“And it’s going to look even more terrible if we keep getting water rings all over it.” 

Harry knew a lost cause when he saw one. He rolled his eyes. “Whatever makes you happy. We can look for coasters.” 

\--

Outside of p-day, which was always a little unpredictable, Louis found himself in an easy routine with Elder Styles. He had always been outgoing in high school, never had a problem approaching people. He genuinely enjoyed getting to know people in Cortez and exploring the different neighborhoods as he and Elder Styles distributed tracts and set up meetings with investigators. He was fascinated with the glimpses of rural life he was afforded in the moments he got to discuss his faith and the Heavenly Father with potential new members.

For all of the freedom he felt exploring Cortez during the day, the LDS church had provided missionaries with strict structure. Wake up at 6:30, prayer and reflection for an hour, sometimes getting out for a run with Elder Payne, breakfast, out in the streets by 9:30am. Louis relied on the structure each day, each hour given a single purpose and goal. He didn’t have to think about what to do next, didn’t have to make choices about how to spend his time, didn’t have to think generally. Louis found not thinking, overall, was preferable to the roads his mind took him down when given free reign. No, best to be told what to do. 

At home in the evenings was when Louis found himself most unsettled. Elder Styles was prone to humming around the apartment, especially as he made dinner, more often than not with a loosened tie and unbuttoned shirt. Louis couldn’t always make out the tune, but from the few strains of TiK ToK he caught one evening, he was pretty sure Elder Styles didn’t have Church approved songs on heavy rotation in his head.

Louis focused instead on cleaning the small apartment. Elders Horan and Payne were coming over for dinner before the four of them were meeting with the other missionaries at Elder Marshall’s apartment. Elder Marshall was their District Leader, the fellow missionary they reported to about their meetings and activities and received training and guidance from. 

“Louis, I just vacuumed on p-day, I really don’t think you have to do it again, Niall and Liam won’t mind. Honestly, I doubt they’ll even notice.”

Elder Styles’ continued use of the missionaries’ first names only added to Louis’ stress. “Well, I notice and I mind. If we’re going to be having guests I want everything to be clean.” He turned the vacuum back on, drowning out any response from Elder Styles and, more importantly, any more pop music renditions. 

The small living room and hallway didn’t take nearly as much time to vacuum as Louis would have liked. He had dusted and wiped all the other surfaces in the common areas while Elder Styles had been showering after their day painting lines on a community soccer field, and as he stood with his hands on his hips surveying the room for even a speck of dust to eliminate, he heard Elder Styles starting to plate dinner. Great time to start cleaning up the kitchen, then. 

Louis purposefully crossed the living room into the kitchen, intent on reaching the sink to start on the cookware. Instead he crashed into Harry carrying a plate of pasta, freshly sauced. Louis saw the pasta splatter all over his pristine white shirt and black tie in slow motion, droplets of sauce flying through the air like videos of astronauts drinking water in space. As time recalibrated to its usual speed, Louis became hyperaware of Harry’s hand gripping Louis’ bicep, steadying them both. Louis was, he realized, toe-to-toe with Harry, nearly chest-to-chest, nearly…..well. Their bodies were very close to each other’s. Given how small their apartment was, especially the bedroom with two twin beds squeezed into the space, it was not without effort that Louis had managed to avoid touching Elder Styles in any way until now. 

Louis backed away from Elder Styles, immediately missing his warmth. Louis swallowed and refocused. Kitchen. Dishes. Although this shirt would need taking care of if he didn’t want it to stain. Okay. Shirt. Kitchen. Dishes.

“Wait - what - what are you doing?” Louis looked on with confusion as Elder Styles put the plate on the counter and began loosening his tie further. 

“Taking my shirt off? So I can rinse it out before the sauce stains my g’s?” Elder Styles finished undoing the knot in the tie and started on the buttons on his shirtsleeves. 

“Well could you - please - “ Louis sputtered “ - the bedroom? Is right there? Put your shirt in the tub and I’ll wash it out.” Seriously, Elder Styles sometimes did not make living together easy. 

Elder Styles paused halfway down his buttons. Grabbing his tie off the counter and turning to head to the bedroom, he frowned at Louis. “Sure, yeah, wouldn’t want to mess with your detergent concoctions.” 

Louis sighed as the bedroom door shut. He looked down at his own shirt and sighed again. He was already dirty, might as well wash the pots like he originally meant. Louis grabbed the sponge and dish soap, hoping the sting of the steaming water would distract him from thinking about the white shirt slipping off Elder Styles’ broad shoulders, his companion unbuckling his black and silver belt to tuck in a clean shirt, his taut forearms tying a fresh tie around his neck….Louis choke-coughed and plunged his hands back into the dishpan of scalding water.


	2. Rejoice and be glad

Harry pedaled slowly through the cool evening on the way back from Elder Marshall’s, telling Louis about a particularly funny run-in at the laundromat months ago, when Liam somehow managed to shrink all his underwear and had to sprint home to write an embarrassing note to his mom before p-day was over and then spent the next two weeks before replacements arrived VERY uncomfortable. It wasn’t much, but it was what passed for entertainment when you were serving a mission, Harry supposed.

The light was turning yellow and Harry was going to power through the intersection when he heard Louis came to a screeching halt on his bike behind him, yelling, “WHY do you keep doing that?”

Harry slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop just short of the intersection. He was utterly confused and turned around to look at Louis. “Do what?”

“Use everyone’s first names. You only call missionaries Elder and Sister when you’re in front of someone more important, or in front of investigators. And you shouldn’t be humming Kesha when you make dinner, and I definitely saw some articles from your sister’s care package from magazines absolutely not on the President’s approved list for missionaries. And don’t get me started on changing while I’m right there in the bedroom! At least warn a guy before you start taking off your g’s, yeah? You really can’t take three more steps to do that in the bathroom with the door closed like a normal person?”

Louis closed his mouth but his chest still heaved with the exertion of biking and then, apparently, going off on two months of frustration he had been stewing over. Harry noticed Louis’ arms tightly gripping his bike handles, his tensed forearms disappearing into his rolled up shirtsleeves. Harry licked his lips and swallowed before beginning to explain.

“Well Lo - Elder Tomlinson - I use first names because yeah we’re missionaries but like, friends, too? I hope. And so when we’re missionaries, I use our titles but,” Harry shrugged, “it feels so formal and stuffy to do that at home, too. I can stop if you don’t like it. I had already asked the other guys and they don’t mind.”

“If they’re fine with it, I guess,” Louis grumbled. “Would be weird to have you calling half of us Elder and half not.”

“And just because we can’t listen to pop music doesn’t mean I can’t hum it. I like Kesha, I miss Kesha, I was trying to find some joy in this,” Harry gestured widely, “thing we’re doing.”

“We’re not supposed to find joy, Elder Styles, we’re supposed to be obedient and prayerful and messengers of the truth of the Gospel and the Lord.”

“And I am! But it’s hard to do those things when you’re also miserable. Trust me. You could argue I’m breaking the rules, but I don’t think so, not really, and if bending the rules a little makes me a better missionary, more open hearted, then I think I’m answering the missionary call and serving the Church in the spirit the Lord intended.” Harry paused, debating how much he wanted to tell Louis about his first year as a missionary. He realized the two of them had been standing in the bike lane through a few cycles of the traffic light. The light turned green again. “C’mon, let’s go home.” He pedaled off.

\--

After their argument at the traffic light, the easy camaraderie between Louis and Elder Styles disappeared. Elder Styles started disappearing to the bathroom or awkwardly asking Louis to leave the room when he changed, and Louis could hear Elder Styles start to hum while cooking and then abruptly cut himself off. He got another care package from his sister and he didn’t hide it from Louis, exactly, but clearly took advantage of Louis showering to open it and put the contents away.

Louis emerged from the bathroom, damp under his garments - the fan in the bathroom was terrible, he could never quite get fully dry before he had to put his clothes back on to go into the rest of the apartment - to find a container of Trader Joe’s licorice scottie dogs on his half of the dresser.

Elder Styles was stretched out on the bed, reading a letter. “My sister sent along some snacks from Trader Joe’s, she got you the licorice you like.”

Louis busied himself hanging up his towel. “That’s uh, nice of her.” He swallowed thickly. “How did she know to send them along?”

Elder Styles shrugged, keeping his eyes on the paper but clearly not actually reading. “You were griping about missing licorice. I might have mentioned it to her in a letter. It’s not a big deal.”

Elder Styles had been writing home about him? But he had spent that day complaining….was Elder Styles just venting about Louis to his family and his sister thought - happy Louis, happy Elder Styles?

“Oh. Well. Tell her thank you from me?” With great effort Louis looked Elder Styles in the eye, trying not to think about how languid and relaxed he looked. It wasn’t often, Louis felt, that missionaries weren’t “on,” even home alone with their companion, and “off” looked good on Elder Styles. He wanted Elder Styles “off” more often.

“Listen, I’m sorry about a couple weeks ago. At the traffic light? After Elder Marshall’s meeting? I shouldn’t have gone after you out of the blue like that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Elder Styles sat up, turning “on,” and while Louis _had_ wanted to apologize, a twinge of regret flittered through his heart as he watched the missionary facade take over Elder Styles’ body language. “You’re right, I was breaking the rules. I’ve been trying to be more obedient to the missionary handbook.”

“Actually Elder - Harry -” Harry raised his eyebrows at the use of his first name. “I wanted to say, it’s fine. You’re right, I think. If we’re supposed to be spreading the word of the joy in your heart when you’ve accepted the Heavenly Father, shouldn’t we be joyful ourselves?” Louis chuckled lightly, hoping Harry couldn’t pick up on his nervousness. “Wouldn’t be good for our numbers if we went around like sourpusses everywhere.”

Harry’s eyes brightened and he smiled, “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.”

\--

If someone had asked Harry in the first few months he was paired with Louis if he enjoyed having Louis as his companion, if it was easy to work with him, Harry would have responded with an enthusiastic “yes.” But once they resolved their awkward tension after their exchange at the traffic light, Harry realized Louis’ full personality had been hidden behind a shell, one that was cracking a little more every day as he joined Harry in “finding joy,” as they started to call their rule-bending, during their mission.

Living “within sight and sound” of each other meant Harry already knew a lot about Louis - that he had, after spending mornings before school under the care of his English grandmother, developed a taste for decaf English tea with milk and blueberry scones. Harry knew the way the expression on his face changed when he got mail from his little sisters at home, how quickly he took off his shoes after arriving home but how he always took the time to line them up neatly by the door. He loved Harry’s mom’s chicken cacciatore recipe and was always game - almost too game - to clean up after dinner. To clean up anytime, really.

And Harry already knew from their community service work that Louis was dramatic, charming, and expressive. He had finagled Harry and himself into more dinner invitations than even Niall, with his Irish accent and upbeat attitude, could manage. Harry didn’t think there was much more to learn about Louis, given the physical and spiritual closeness of missionary companionship, but it turns out their conversation at the traffic light, their eventual reconciliation, and their mutual dedication to finding joy brought down a wall Harry hadn’t realized was still between them.

Louis was _tactile_. Harry hadn’t realized a person could be touched as often as he found Louis touching him, resting his hand on Harry’s arm to get his attention, or gently putting pressure on his hip to move Harry out of the way in the kitchen, or brushing hands as they passed the Windex back and forth cleaning on p-day. Other men might have been uncomfortable, but Harry fell into the physical closeness easily. Louis still kept his distance when they were “on” as missionaries, meeting with the mission president or potential new members, and Harry began to find it harder to get through the day when he could look but not touch.

The other thing Harry learned was that Louis’ pop music knowledge put his own to shame, and Harry was particularly proud of his familiarity with the genre. They’d play a game while Harry made dinner, Harry shouting out random words and Louis coming back with a line from a song containing it.

“Raspberry.”

“She wore a raspberry beret, the kind you find at a secondhand store,” Louis sang from where he was dusting the living room.

“Smoke,” which, inconveniently, was what his pan was starting to do.

“Why, bleeding is breathing, you’re hiding, underneath the smoke in the room.”

Depending on the night, Harry would get more or less ridiculous, asking Louis for “misshapen,” “bauble,” “alibi,” and Louis had a line for every one, and if Harry got lucky, dance moves to go with them.

As Harry laughed at Louis shimmying while they were getting dressed one morning, he had the dawning realization that Louis’ entrance into his life might have been the best thing to ever happen to him. Louis sparkled like the sun, lighting Harry’s life with a joy he would have previously found unfathomable. Harry had been happy before Louis, sure, and he had been finding joy in his mission on his own, but Harry was beginning to admit to himself that nothing gave him as much joy as Louis.

Louis had finished cleaning one evening before Niall and Liam were slated to come over for dinner, and he stood by the stove as Harry put the finishing touches on the spaghetti sauce, his shoulder brushing Harry’s as he swayed on his feet. “Here, c’mere, Lou, how does this taste?” Harry brought a spoonful of sauce from the pot and extended it towards Louis. He watched as Louis put his lips to the wooden spoon, his cheekbones defined as he tasted the offering.

“Delici - “

“Heyy hey! Oh!” Louis and Harry turned towards the door as Niall and Liam crashed through the entrance and then stopped short. Liam seemed to regain the ability to speak first. “That’s, uh, hi guys.”

“Oh hey! Dinner’s almost ready. Lou was just letting me know if it needed more thyme or something.”

“Lou? Was just - oh - “

From behind Harry, Louis jumped in to cut off wherever Liam was going, rattling the silverware drawer as he opened it roughly. “It’s great, Haz. Let’s go eat, yeah?”

The entire meal Louis avoided eye contact with Harry, barely talking to him, chatting about the running weather with Liam or the community soccer team he was coaching with Niall. He scarfed down his pasta and rushed to the sink with his and Niall’s dirty plates. Harry saw steam rising from the water filling the dishpan and Louis immediately immersing his hands in it, even though the dishes were still stacked on the counter.

 _I guess his walls aren’t quite all the way down_ , Harry thought to himself, _but at least they’re more like fences_. 

\---

Louis was relaxed on the couch, leaning up against the arm with his legs across the couch and on Harry’s lap, while Harry had his legs propped on the coffee table. Louis was paging through the latest issue of _New Era_ from the mission president’s office and Harry was deeply engrossed in a book on pirates, it looked like, but maybe also Thomas Jefferson? It wasn’t Church-approved material, to be sure, but if it was about early American history, it couldn’t be that distracting from their mission, could it?

Louis put down the magazine - he didn’t really need the details on how missionaries are called to serve - and considered Harry in concentration for a moment. His brow was furrowed as his eyes scanned each line, and on occasion he’d lift his right hand to his side and let it hover for a moment as he tried to find his water glass without taking his eyes off the page. Inevitably he’d find the glass but not quite get a grip on it and would have to, heaven forbid, look away from his book to actually get a drink. Louis smiled to himself as he watched Harry struggle.

He kicked Harry’s thigh. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. What are you reading?”

“Nothing exciting. How missionaries are called. Not new information. How’s your book?”

“Oh it’s really good! You know the Marine Corps hymn? ‘From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli?’”

Louis looked at Harry blankly as he continued the hymn.

“We will fight our country’s battles, in the air, on land, and sea?” Harry’s eyebrows rose and his eyes grew wide as he realized Louis had no clue.

“Well anyway,” Harry cut himself off, “it’s about the ‘shores of Tripoli.’ The first Barbary war in 1805. It’s really good.”

“And also not allowed.”  

Harry grimaced. “No.”

“I don’t mind! I just kind of….honestly, Harry, I’m not sure I get why you’re here?” He immediately regretted his question. Louis had wanted to ask Harry about his motivation for serving a mission, given how flexible he was about the mission rules, but he hadn’t thought of a tactful way to get there yet. He didn’t mean to bring it up so rudely.

Louis rushed on. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean it that way. But you break a lot of the rules, and don’t seem very concerned with our baptism numbers, but you have such a good attitude and it feels like you WANT to be here? And everyone loves you! You’re so kind to everyone, even the rudest people we have contact with, and you’re such a good friend to the other missionaries. I don’t get it.”

“You don’t get why I’m kind to people?”

“No, no, I don’t get - like - the church called you to a mission, right? So they clearly decided you were worthy, and you accepted the call, and now you’re here. And the church has rules for how we’re supposed to conduct ourselves so that we can serve our mission effectively and grow in our own faith and testimony. But you don’t seem interested in following the rules.”

“I don’t know, I’ve always considered the missionary handbook more like...guidelines.”

“Harry, did you just quote Pirates of the Caribbean at me while _reading about pirates_?”

Harry giggled. “Maybe.” He dogeared his spot and closed his book on his lap. “I’m kind of serious though. We’re supposed to be centered on our mission work and our actions and thoughts are supposed to be in harmony with the gospel, right? And I think a lot of the handbook helps with that. I like our daily schedule and the emphasis on our personal growth with our faith and study of scripture. But if we’re also supposed to be ambassadors for the word of God, if our words and deeds are supposed to bring people to the church and to salvation, I find I’m a better missionary for the Heavenly Father if I _do_ remember the outside world and what I love about it. I can better serve the church if I feel like I’m the best version of myself. And yeah, reading a history book isn’t strictly allowed, but if it helps me feel more whole, I don’t think God would be upset.”

“But the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and the prophets have made these rules over generations, you don’t think that they have better knowledge to determine what makes a missionary their best? That they made each of these rules for a reason?”

Harry shrugged. “I guess so. I just know I tried following them to the letter, when I first got here, and I was really unhappy. Not just like homesick, we’ve all been lonely and stuff, but like, really truly unhappy.” Harry had been looking at Louis while they talked, but at that he looked down at his lap and started worrying the edges of his book. “I asked to go home.”

Louis pulled his legs up from Harry’s lap and moved to sit criss-cross, facing Harry. “You asked to leave?” Missionaries rarely went home early, and usually only because a medical reason forced them to.

Harry was biting his lower lip and still fumbling the corner of his book with his long fingers. Louis watched his profile as Harry cleared his throat and a short curl fell softly onto his forehead. Louis idly thought about what Harry might look like with longer hair, curling around his ears and at the nape of his neck, soft brown waves Louis could bury his hands in and scratch….Louis scraped his fingers down his left forearm to stop that train of thought.

“Yeah,” Harry continued softly. “I saw the mission president and everything. He sent me to a counselor at the mission headquarters, I talked to them a few times, and well, I’m still here.”

“Is that where you got the whole “finding joy” thing?”

“Yeah, I mean, obviously the counselor wasn’t telling me to break the handbook rules to find joy, but we read a lot of scripture like,” Harry waved his hands in the air and started loosely quoting, “The purpose of a mortal life is for all people to have joy, a full joy will only come through Jesus Christ, your joy no man taketh away from you, in this life I shall have joy, you know. Anyway, so that helped, but I couldn’t suddenly find joy living exactly the same way as I was before I saw the mission prez and the counselor, you know? So I started writing to Gemma about it and how I was feeling and she started sending me small things, like a magazine I could read quickly and trash easily, and eventually I started asking her for specific news and books and stuff.”

Louis nodded and waited for Harry to continue. He had more questions for Harry - what was his first companion like, did he help Harry find joy or was he one of things making Harry’s mission difficult? How much of this do Niall and Liam know? They must know a little, if they’re okay with Harry using their first names, but did they know the books Harry was getting from Gemma? - but he got the sense that asking those questions outright might close Harry off.

Harry shifted on the couch, putting his legs down from the coffee table and turning to Louis. He took a deep breath, still looking down at his lap. “And Niall and Liam were really good to me - helped distract me and lifted my mood a lot when I was down. They came over for dinner a lot.”

Louis sensed an opportunity. “What about your other companion? What was he like?” Louis realized he was nervous about the answer. He wasn’t in competition with Harry’s previous companion, he didn’t even know the guy’s name, but it was suddenly important to Louis that he was better for Harry, that he was helping Harry find joy in a way his previous companion hadn’t. He leaned in towards Harry, shifting on his side so their knees were almost touching, anxious to know where he stood in Harry’s estimation of his past companions.

Harry finally looked up and met Louis’ eye. “Not at all like you.”

Louis released the breath he was holding. “No?” Louis moved closer to Harry, putting his hand on Harry’s knee.

“No.” Harry leaned over and gripped Louis’ hip, his face suddenly in Louis’ space. His hand was sure and heavy, warmth emanating from Harry’s fingertips through Louis’ hip, sending warm ripples through his back and up his spine, making his thoughts hazy. Louis tilted his head forward, lightly nuzzling Harry’s nose before meeting Harry’s lips with his own. Harry’s lips were soft, and Louis felt an inexplicable calm as they moved closer together, their kiss turning heated as Harry parted his lips for Louis to lick into. Harry’s hand started putting pressure on Louis, coaxing him towards Harry and into his lap.    

Instead of moving closer to his companion, Louis jerked away from Harry, scooching back to the other side of the couch. He and Harry had kissed. He had kissed his missionary companion. He had kissed his missionary companion with _tongue_ . His missionary companion _had kissed him back_. Harry was looking at Louis wide-eyed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Louis felt panic closing in, tightening in his chest. “I. Need to go.” He threw himself off the couch, stumbling to catch his balance as he tried to move forward towards the bathroom while untangling his legs. He managed to find his way without falling over, thankfully had enough sense remaining to close the door, and emptied his dinner into the toilet. He sat on the floor, head against his arms crossed over the toilet seat, breathing shallowly. He heard Harry knock on the door.

“Louis? Are you okay?” Louis didn’t answer; with any luck Harry would get the hint and leave him alone.

After a few moments, Louis heard a soft clink against the ground. “I’ve left you a glass of water outside, if you want it.”

Louis lifted his head from the toilet seat and took a deep breath. “Thanks,” he croaked, and rested his head back on his arms.

His mind was racing. He had worked so hard repenting after the bishop at home found out about him and Nathan, had done so much so he would still be worthy of a mission call, and not even six months into his mission he lost control of himself around his companion. He fumbled with the shower curtain and reached for the knob, turning the water as hot as it could go. Louis mindlessly started stripping his clothes while the water heated up, and then clamored into the tub to sit under the still-cold spray. He hugged his knees to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut. Tears started falling, mixing in his mouth with the taste of his vomit, and his body shook with sobs he tried to keep silent.

 --

Harry had just finished hanging up his tie when he heard the shower start. He closed his eyes and began unbuttoning his shirt, imaging Louis’ fingers undoing the buttons instead of his own, Louis flitting his hands over Harry’s shoulders as he lowered the shirt from his torso, stroking Harry’s back, smoothing his garments down.

Harry’s eyes flew open. Oh. So. He thinks of Louis that way. As Harry continued to undress and change into his pajamas - eyes open, this time - he considered his feelings for Louis. Louis was his missionary companion, his friend, his partner in finding joy. He loved making Louis laugh, throwing his head back and putting his hand over his mouth, looking at Harry with crinkles by his eyes. Harry realized in their few months of missionary work together, he trusted Louis’ spiritual interpretations when they met with potential new members in a way he never believed in Elder White’s. He valued Louis’ opinions. He wanted to know what made Louis happy, and wanted to provide that for him.

He wanted to be Louis’ joy.

Harry pulled on his shorts and climbed into bed. Did this mean he loved Louis? Harry had never considered loving another guy before. He fluffed his pillow, trying to get comfortable while his mind flew along like a bullet train. In high school, before his missionary call, he had a girlfriend for a time. Did he feel the same way about Julianne as he did when he looked at Louis? Had he wanted to be near her constantly, know her thoughts, see her smile, in the same way he did with Louis? Harry had been chalking up his need for closeness to Louis to their compatibility as missionary companions but maybe they were, maybe they could be, more?

A sob from the bathroom jolted Harry from his contemplations. He hadn’t realized the shower was still running - the water must be cold by now. Was Louis really that distraught by a kiss between them? Harry turned over, bunching up the pillow again. He couldn’t find it in himself to be that upset, all things considered, which surprised him. He got the feeling Louis would rather not explore their feelings together at the moment, though, and let his nighttime prayers drift him off into sleep.

 --

There were a few tentative days after their kiss where Harry overanalyzed every one of his moves, trying not to make Louis uncomfortable after the long cry he had heard from the shower. He puttered around the kitchen one morning, boiling water for tea, wiping down the counter even though he knew Louis would probably clean it later anyway, debating whether to start early on his scripture reading or wait for Louis to join him.

He turned towards the other side of the L-shaped counter and jumped; Louis apparently had woken up and padded into the kitchen. Harry could feel he was still warm from bed as Louis stretched the long sleeves of his pajama shirt over his knuckles and peered over at the kettle starting to boil on the counter.

“Tea almost ready?”

“Uh - “ Harry fumbled in the upper cabinet. “Yeah, sure, here’s a mug.” He grabbed Louis’ favorite, one his mom sent in a care package recently with photos of his sisters printed it on it and “I love Lou” in the littlest’s handwriting. As he handed it over Louis surprised him by wrapping his hand entirely around Harry’s as he thanked him and took the mug.

A few days later they were reading in their room before bed, Louis sideways on the bed leaning up against a body pillow, a gift from his mom after he apparently wrote home describing the lack of joy he was getting from the thin pillows the Church had provided. He certainly had complained to Harry enough times about it. In all honesty, Harry saw his point. The pillows were passable for sleeping but Harry fidgeted as he tried to sit up against the headboard comfortably.

“Gosh, H, stop it, come over here.” Louis tossed down his book of scripture and shuffled around the bed, rearranging the pillows.

“I- what - sure?” Harry tentatively untangled himself from his blankets and moved to stand up. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, you’re sitting there sighing and shuffling around. It’s distracting and I can tell you’re uncomfortable, which is also distracting. We can both fit here, c’mon, scootch up.”

Harry cautiously climbed on Louis’ bed, joining him leaning against the wall with the pillow support. A sigh escaped him before he could think twice about it.

“I told you this was better.”   

“Yeah, yeah, go read.”

Harry tried to keep a respectable distance from Louis, hyperaware of the space between their bodies and constantly on the alert for relaxing _too_ much and sliding into Louis’ personal space. Louis, it appeared, did not have the same concern and over the course of the evening turned further and further into jelly, sliding down the pillow towards Harry. Eventually his head was propped on Harry’s bicep, one side of his scripture held up by his own hand and the other side by Harry’s forearm. The warmth loosened Harry’s resolve and he lifted his arm to wrap around Louis.

At the same time, Louis sat up and looked directly at Harry, his tongue darting out for a quick moment, licking his lips. He snuggled into Harry’s shoulder and without thinking, Harry leaned down and pressed a kiss to Louis’ cheekbone. He drew away and immediately started panicking, expecting Louis would run away again. Instead he looked down to see Louis tilting his head up, eyes closed, lips searching out Harry’s, eyelashes long and delicate.

 

 [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/137527608@N05/37083368743/in/dateposted-public/)

 

Harry pulled Louis in closer and kissed him fully on the mouth, deepening the kiss as he pushed their books to the side and grabbed Louis with his free arm. Louis hummed and turned to face Harry, climbing on his lap and stroking his chest. Harry ran his hands up Louis’ back and then down his front, feeling the shape of his body - he wasn’t soft in the same places as Julianne and Harry loved exploring Louis, finding where he curved and where he was broad, discovering his strong thighs and eliciting a gasp when he smoothed his hands over Louis’ ass.

For his part, Louis moved his hands from stroking Harry’s chest to playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing them closer together as Louis started grinding against Harry’s dick. Harry moved his hands, already at Louis’ lower back, to his belt buckle, slipping down to stroke Louis’ hardening cock through his pants. Louis gasped as he leaned in to Harry, seeking more pressure that Harry was all too joyful to give.

Louis groaned into Harry’s mouth as Harry lifted his hips to move against Louis, blood flowing to his dick as Harry was more and more turned on. Suddenly Harry felt Louis stop moving and he pulled away, worried his worst fear was turning into actuality and Louis was preparing to bolt. Louis stayed on his lap but looked down at Harry seriously. “Is this okay?”

“Is what okay?”

“All of this. Any of this.”

“I mean, are you finding joy? I am.”

Louis looked down at their pants tenting between them, the black fabric straining against their hard cocks, begging for release.

“I’d say so.”

“Then I’m okay with it.”

“Good.” With that, Louis gripped the nape of Harry’s neck even tighter and threw himself into rolling his body against Harry’s. Harry began undoing Louis’ belt.

“Lou - Lou - I need, want to make you feel good.”

“Yeah,” Louis responded breathily, “yeah, go.” Louis began fumbling with Harry’s belt and soon both of them managed to unbuckle, unbutton, untuck, and unzip each other and stroke each other’s dicks through their garments. Harry wasn’t totally inexperienced, but he couldn’t remember a time he had been more turned on just from some heavy petting. Not only that, but he wasn’t sure he had ever been so invested in his partner’s pleasure. For as good as Louis was giving him in the handjob department (which was incredibly good), Harry was much more preoccupied with finding ways to get Louis as worked up as Harry, making his breath hitch, and he counted a tick in the win column when Louis stop kissing him, resting his forehead against Harry’s as Harry moved from stroking his cock to lightly squeezing his balls and then running his hand to Louis’ tip and back down again.

“Oh god, H, keep doing that,” Louis stuttered. Louis squeezed the tip of Harry’s dick and Harry thrust up into Louis’ hand, seeking more. Louis starting stroking Harry’s dick, stopping to tighten at his head before moving back down. Before long they were both stuttering, eyes closed, losing their rhythm as they chased joy in each other’s hands. They were nearly fully clothed, stroking each other through unzipped pants and under their shirtfronts, but Harry had honestly never been more turned on. He suddenly felt wetness in his palm as Louis’ pitch grew higher, the little “oh’s” he had been exhaling growing louder and louder. Harry’s thighs began to shake as he let go, spilling out into his garments, the wetness sticking to his body and making the fabric transparent. He opened his eyes to find Louis in a similar state, his head against Harry’s shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

Harry stroked Louis’ back under his button front shirt, over his garments. “You ok?” he asked.

Louis sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” He sat back on his haunches, still on Harry’s lap, and looked Harry in the eye. “You ok?”

“I’m okay now but these garments won’t be too joyful when they’re sticking to me in a couple minutes.”

Louis laughed and got off Harry’s lap, unbuttoning his shirt. “Go shower and leave them behind. I’ll clean out the kitchen sink and put them in there with mine to soak.”

And so he did.


	3. It was not good that man should be alone

On Friday, November 13, Harry got a call from Elder Marshall. The missionaries were asked to meet at President Abbott’s before Sunday services. 

"Did he say what for?” Louis had his sleeves rolled up, elbow deep in suds. He hadn’t been keeping up with his laundry regime, made apparent by his yellowing button downs. They were long overdue for a good soak and some blueing. 

“Nah, something about a new handbook change from the First Presidency. Probably something about grooming standards. They’re finally gonna make you get rid of that scruff.” Harry knelt next to Louis at the tub, knocking hips and nuzzling his cheek against the short beard Louis had started keeping. 

“Hey, the scruff gives me joy, I’m not getting rid of it anytime soon.” Louis pulled the plug and drained the tub to rinse out the shirts. 

“Anyway,” Harry stood up, “Be ready to be at the President’s by 9, I guess.”

Sunday morning Harry and Louis found Niall, Liam, and Elder Marshall in the President’s meeting room. 

“What’s this all about, then?” Niall asked when Louis sat down. 

“No clue.” Louis shrugged. 

One of the Sisters leaned over between the boys’ chairs. “I heard it’s about the new handbook change from the First Presidency. They changed Handbook 1 about gay marriage.”

Harry whipped around from where he had been talking to Elder Marshall. “They what?”

“I don’t know,” Sister Neuman sat back against her chair. “I was here on Friday helping Sister Abbott with some clerical work and I heard the President on the phone.”  

President Abbott walked into the room and a hushed quiet fell over the missionaries. He cleared his throat. “Good morning everyone. We have some news from the First Presidency that I’ve been asked to share with you in person. It’s been making news reports across the country, and we wanted you to be prepared in case anyone asks you questions when you’re tracting or out in the community. 

“There’s been a change to the Handbook clarifying a few things with regards to same-gender marriage.”

Louis stiffened. He felt Harry shift closer, their shoulders brushing for a moment. 

“There’s a few things the Presidency wants me to cover with you. First of all, they emphasize that this isn’t a policy change, but rather a clarification. Many people are misinterpreting this revision to the Handbook as adding a new policy, but it is simply a revision to existing rules.

“Adults who enter into same-gender marriages or similar relationships are commiting a sin, which warrants Church discipline, as appropriate. Same-sex marriage is increasingly a right adults may take advantage of in the United States, but it is not a right that exists in the Church. There is a distinction between what is legal in the eyes of man and what is legal in the eyes of the Lord and the Church. This handbook revision is to clarify this difference.

“Children living with those adults cannot receive baptism, priesthoods, or serve as missionaries until their primary residence is no longer with those adults. This is out of our utmost concern and respect for the wellbeing of children. Innocent children, minors, are not equipped to deal with the moral and theological questions that arise when their parents are living in opposition to the Church.

“Both of these revisions are in continuation of the Church’s efforts to lead people to joy through the avoidance of sin, to direct them to the path of what is right and true. The Savior was unrelenting in his efforts to minister, to heal, to bless, and to bring people to a joyful life through the Lord, and the Church is committed to carrying out that mission with compassion and love.

“We hope this information will help you respond to any questions as you go about your work in your districts. Of course you’re always welcome to seek counsel and further guidance with myself.” 

President Abbott checked his watch. “That’s about all we have time for, services will be starting shortly. See you all at temple.”

Everyone started moving and Louis jumped, startled. He looked down to see he had picked his thumb raw throughout the President’s speech, blood threatening his white cuffs. 

\--

Niall and Liam came over a few mornings a week, and Liam and Louis would leave to go on a run while Niall and Harry took care of the balcony garden they kept at Harry and Louis’s. The next morning they came over like usual, joshing around as Louis opened the door for them. 

“Heyy hey, Harry, how’s the kale doing?” Niall shouldered his way past Louis and towards the sliding door that led to the small balcony, clapping Louis on the back in greeting.

“Ready to run, Tommo?” Liam jogged in place, trying to stay warmed up in the brisk mid November morning.

Louis was tired, physically and emotionally, and wasn’t really up for running, much less with Liam’s enthusiasm for early mornings, but he needed space from Harry, from their apartment together, from everything reminding him about what he risked, for a blessed 30 minutes. He could only hope Liam was as interested in a quiet run today as Louis was. 

Louis cleared his throat. “Yeah, Liam, let’s go.” He locked the door behind him and they set off down the stairs. They hit the sidewalk, heading west. Much to Louis’ chagrin, Liam immediately launched into a story about the dinner he and Niall had with a potential new member last night. Louis gazed ahead at the mountains, watching the shades of blue getting lighter, a translucent moon setting between the peaks as the sun rose behind them. He hummed in the right places, laughed a little bit when the time seemed right, but he couldn’t tell you a thing Liam had said. His head instead rang with the refrains “not legal in the eyes of the Church,” and “lead people to joy through the avoidance of sin,” each syllable punctuated with a heavy footfall, each word accompanied by a sharp pierce in his chest with each cold breath in. 

Louis started picking up speed, hoping to distract himself with the burn in his thighs. He could hear Liam taking deeper gasps as he continued telling his story, exhibiting true dedication to the punchline even as he struggled to keep up. Louis kept pushing, faster, until his thoughts were consumed with pain in his chest, the piercing in his legs, his arms pumping wildly. 

“Gosh, Louis, we’re not trying to outrun Usain Bolt here,” Liam huffed out, falling half a pace behind Louis, then a full step, then two. “Louis!” 

Louis came to a skidding stop and turned around to find Liam bent at the waist, hands on his thighs, huffing wildly. 

“Gosh, Louis, do you have to - “

“Liam, I’m gay.” Louis put his hands on his hips and looked up to the sky, pretending to catch his breath so he didn’t have to look Liam in the eye.

“I - uh - okay?”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Were you expecting me to think that’s a problem?”

“Well, I mean, yes? Maybe. No. I’m never sure.” 

Each boy took a few breaths, the light around them getting pinker and brighter and the air warming.

“Liam, I’m gay and I’m in love with Harry.”

Louis finally looked down as Liam frowned slightly and straightened up. He crossed his arms against his chest. “Okay now  _ that _ might be a problem. Does he know?” 

“Well, I kissed him the other night, so likely.”

“You KISSED?” Louis flinched. “Sorry, sorry Louis, I didn’t realize...Niall and I’ve talked before about how close you two are but we didn’t think it was like that.”

“Well, it’s ‘like that.’” Louis used scare quotes as he mimicked Liam’s phrase. “I’m gay and I’m in love with Harry and the Church doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

Liam looked around. “The park’s just over there - do you want to sit and talk?”

Louis bit his lip and nodded and they set off towards one of the picnic tables. 

Louis sat sideways against the table, his legs pulled up onto the bench against his chest. His right arm wrapped around his legs as his left hand played with a few leaves that had fallen on the table. He took a deep breath. 

“Harry wasn’t the first boy I kissed. I had been fooling around with a guy in my Priesthood classes until someone saw us after an Elders Quorum meeting. We were stupid, we should have been more careful, but all the things they teach you about apostasy don’t seem real when you don’t actually know someone who’s been disciplined. I mean there’s always rumors, but.”

Louis pushed aside the leaf he had shredded. “Anyway, I had meetings with the Bishop, a disciplinary council, the whole bit. I couldn’t receive the sacrament for awhile and they told me they’d withhold my recommendation for a mission until I saw a counselor about my ‘same-sex attraction’ to their satisfaction. ‘S’why I’m older than a lot of starting missionaries. They let me see a therapist outside the church but I had to give him permission to the talk to the Bishop about my progress and I had to meet with the council every few weeks. It took awhile for them to release me, I think they liked having something to hold over my head. They knew I was really excited about going on a mission.” 

“What happened with the other guy?”

“Nathan? He had a meeting with the discipline council too but I don’t know what happened, his family moved away and started going to a new ward. We saw each other a few times after we got caught but his family probably forbid him from talking to me after they moved. I haven’t heard from him since they left.” 

“And now you’re on a mission and in love with your companion.” 

“Yeah and like, Liam, I want a family. I love my sisters, and my parents, I want to be with them in the celestial kingdom. I want my children there. I can’t be gay and have that. I can’t be with Harry and have that. Bishop Waite made that clear, President Abbott that handbook change made that clear. I will never be able to be my whole self  _ and _ be Mormon.” 

“So don’t be Mormon.”

Louis’ head shot up. That was the last thing he had expected Liam to say, and definitely the first time another Mormon had so unequivocally given Louis that option.

“I - what - why?”

Liam shrugged. “Heaven is heaven. We’re all there together. We don’t even know if the celestial kingdom is a  _ thing _ until we get up there. Be a good person - and a happy person - here on earth and it’ll sort itself out up above, is what I figure happens.” 

Louis gaped at Liam. He shut his mouth and began picking at the table again. “I don’t - I don’t know. I worked so hard to get here already and keep my temple recommend and I don’t know if I want to throw that away.”

“Louis, you’re 21. You have your whole life ahead of you. What is that economics argument? About sunk costs? You can’t get back that time you’ve spent trying to make the bishops happy with you, but you can get back the rest of your life and be happy with  _ yourself _ . Do you really want to spend the next 40 years alone and unhappy because you don’t want to throw away the last, what, 3?” Liam was suddenly very emphatic, waving his arms around in a way Louis had only ever seen when he got particularly enthusiastic about a piece of scripture. “Listen, from the way you talk about your family, they’ll still love you and welcome you. I’ll still love you. I bet Niall will too. Have you talked to Harry? How does he feel?”

“Well, he kissed me back, and we’ve done more than kissing, so.” 

Liam looked at his watch. “Look, we should head back, but Christmas is soon. You can talk to your mom then. She knows about Nathan, right? And still loves you? Tell her about Harry.” Liam stood up from the table and started jogging back towards the sidewalk. He turned back towards Louis, still sitting at the table in shock at the simplicity with which Liam seemed to resolve his problem. Liam hadn’t, not really, but the ease he had discussing the topic gave Louis a sliver of hope that maybe he could make it out of this unscathed. 

“C’mon, Lou, Niall and I have a meeting we have to get to!”

Louis stood up and started jogging towards Liam, who picked up his story about dinner at the prospective member’s house exactly where he left off. 

\--

On Thanksgiving Day Louis and Harry joined the other missionaries for dinner at the President’s house. It had been tiring, to be near each other but unable to touch each other, constantly examining how other missionary companions interacted to make sure anything between he and Harry would plausibly stand up as purely platonic behavior between two men who had been sharing their entire personal, spiritual, and extracurricular lives with each other for six months, and not two men who also now shared their sex lives as well. 

Louis also couldn’t help but look around the room and wonder what each person thought of the new handbook change - sorry,  _ clarification _ \- about gay Mormons and their families. Who among these people, Sisters and Elders he had been spending some of the most intense months of his life living and worshipping and evangelizing with, thought he didn’t deserve the full blessings of the Church because of who he loved? Who thought his children should be punished for who he lived with? Did he just spend his first holiday away from home with a group of people who claimed to love him now, but would turn their back on him as soon as they fully knew him? There was a growing and vocal part of the Mormon church advocating for inclusion, but it’s not like they wore a special sticker on their nametags, especially at a Mission President’s Thanksgiving dinner. 

Louis felt uneasy the whole meal and after scarfing down a slice of pumpkin pie - no matter how uncomfortable he felt, he wasn’t leaving without his favorite part of Thanksgiving in his stomach - he found Harry, deep in conversation with Sister Neuman and her companion, Sister Hedge. Harry had half a slice of pie on his plate, and Louis took advantage of his distraction to take it out of his hands and polish it off.

“Harold, looks like you’re done with your pie, we really should get back to the apartment. You had wanted to look over the Book of Alma to answer some questions from Jane on Sunday.” 

“Oh wow, you guys scheduled a lesson this weekend? She must be really enthusiastic!” 

Harry looked at Louis, brows knit together. Louis didn’t miss a beat. 

“She is! She thought a weekend of giving thanks was the perfect time to give even greater thanks to the Lord for giving her Harry and I. ‘Now this is my joy, and my great thanksgiving; yea, and I will give thanks unto my God forever!’ and et cetera.” Louis added some arm flourishes, hoping the dramatics would keep the girls laughing and he could pull Harry away before he questioned anything. He grabbed Harry’s elbow and started turning towards the door. “Anyway, it was great to see you both, happy Thanksgiving!” 

“Happy…” Harry stumbled a bit as Louis dragged him away. “Thanksgiving.” 

“Louis, it’s not polite to leave without thanking President Abbott.” 

Louis sighed. He was hoping he could avoid this but Harry had always been more patient with the “How are you?” “Oh good, how are you?” “Oh good.” “Oh it was nice to see you.” “Oh nice to see you too.” inanities. 

“Fine, but the President and Sister Abbott and no one else.” 

After exchanging pleasantries and convincing the President about this lesson on Sunday - that definitely did not exist - as quickly as possible, Harry and Louis bundled up, hopped on their bikes, and finally headed home. Louis pedaled as fast as his full stomach would allow, taking deep breaths of the cold mountain air. His lungs hurt but the freedom he felt mitigated the pain. After those few hours of obligatory Church socializing, they had the rest of the weekend off from missionary work, although they’d have to come up with a cover story for the “missed” lesson with Jane when they met with Elder Marshall next week. 

They arrived home and defrosted, Harry putting on the kettle and finding their favorite cinnamon tea, Louis moving Harry’s comforter from his bed to Louis’ own. He grabbed Harry’s pillow and fluffed the blankets, creating a snug nest. He had just finished, looking at the nest proudly with his hands on his hips, when Harry pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, a cup of tea in each hand and the latest book from his sister under his one arm. 

Louis grabbed the teas and put them on the dresser as Harry put his book down. They settled in beneath the comforters together, against Louis’ body pillow, everything soft and fluffy and warm. They read quietly together, digesting dinner, occasionally shuffling their bodies, keeping as much contact between them as possible. 

Their tea long finished, Louis put down his reading and snuggled under Harry’s arm, settling onto his shoulder as Harry started stroking his hair with his left hand and holding his book on his knees with his right. Louis found his eyes closing, secure in Harry’s warmth and lulled to a light sleep by the even rise and fall of Harry’s chest. He felt Harry drop a soft kiss to the top of his head and drifted off. 

He woke up to Harry lightly brushing his fingers up and down his arm. He was still reading, and except for the light movement of his wrist, hadn’t appeared to move at all in the time Louis was napping. Louis nuzzled against Harry’s chest and then lifted his head for a kiss, which Harry obliged. Like everything else this evening, it was soft and warm and comforting, and when they broke apart a small smile played across Harry’s lips. 

“What was that for?”

“Nothing,” Louis responded, “just having a good day.” 

“Aw, Lou.” Harry tilted his head down for another kiss. Louis reached up to stroke Harry’s jaw and opened his mouth, turning the kiss heated. Harry put his book aside and turned toward Louis, licking into his mouth as he stroked Louis’ waist. They continued kissing slowly but with intent, taking this Thursday evening further but in no real rush to get there. They touched each other all over, fingertips applying soft pressure, radiating warmth. Louis let out a gasp when Harry squeezed his bum and Louis brought his hands around to Harry’s front to fumble with his belt.  He got Harry unzippered and started lightly stroking his dick as Harry pulled Louis’ shirt out from his pants and started working his way up the buttons. 

Harry broke the kiss and moved his lips to Louis’ jaw, kissing and nuzzling his short beard,  breathing heavily as Louis moved his hand on Harry’s dick with intent. Louis had a sudden vision of rubbing his scruff along Harry’s white thighs, sliding his hands up Harry’s legs, crawling up Harry’s body to drink his fill. “Harry - H - “ he breathed heavily in between kisses, “wanna go down on you.” 

Harry pulled back and swallowed. He didn’t say anything for a long moment and in the silence Louis realized they knew nothing of each other’s experiences. For all he knew Harry had never kissed anyone before, much less a boy, and much less have one offer to suck his dick. Harry certainly didn’t know this wouldn’t be Louis’ first time with one. It occurred to Louis they should maybe talk about that, find out where they stood, but a serious chat was a low priority at the moment. 

“Really? Are you sure?” Harry was biting his lip, red from kissing, as he looked down at Louis laying against the pillow. 

Louis nodded. “Yeah, I want to, can I?” He squeezed the head of Harry’s dick to emphasize his point. 

“Where do you want me?” 

Louis lifted his head to kiss Harry, pushing him up and maneuvering him to lay on the bed. They ended up upside down, Harry’s head at the foot of the bed, but Louis didn’t want to waste time righting themselves. He hovered over Harry’s body, pulling down his pants and running his hands back up Harry’s legs, over his garments to his shirt. He started working on the buttons while straddling Harry’s hips and kissing him, but his fingers kept slipping and he finally sat up, focused on getting Harry’s shirt and garments off. 

Louis had seen Harry’s naked chest before, changing after a shower or coming back from ref’ing the kid’s community soccer league. But that had always been utilitarian; Harry’s body had never been  _ for _ Louis, laid out on his bed for Louis to touch, breathe in, gaze at. So Louis took a minute to do so, his hands following the path of Harry’s ribs from his sternum to his sides, feeling his narrow waist curve out into hips with the softest pudge over his garment bottoms. 

Louis’ exploration of Harry’s body was interrupted when Louis brushed over one of Harry’s nipples and Harry’s hips lifted up, looking for friction. Louis startled at Harry hard underneath him and at the groan that escaped his own mouth as Louis leaned over to kiss Harry hungrily. Harry moved again, whining, and Louis kissed down his chest, moving his hands to the waistband of Harry’s garments, tapping Harry’s lower back for him to lift so Louis could take them off all the way. Louis flung the garments to the side with his own unbuttoned shirt. He gazed at Harry, whose arm was thrown over his forehead, the other lightly stroking his chest, his dick pink, hard and curving towards his stomach. Louis gripped Harry’s thigh and slid his hand up the soft skin of his dick. 

“Lou - wait - hold on - “

Louis paused, hand still wrapped around the head of Harry’s dick, heart suddenly racing. He tried to keep his voice steady. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel ridiculous,” Harry leaned up and played with the belt loops on Louis’ pants. “I don’t want to be the only naked one.” 

Louis sighed with relief. Yes, okay, of course, Louis was practically fully clothed, about to go down on a naked Harry with his garments and his dress pants on. He could get naked as long as it mean he could still get his mouth on Harry. 

Louis lifted his garment undershirt over his head while Harry started undoing his belt. Harry got stuck on the button, not used to the angle, and Louis took over, shedding his pants and garments in one go. 

He settled back on Harry’s thighs, a little bit colder now that he was outside of the blanket nest they had created. Louis started kissing Harry’s chest, dropping kisses in a random pattern and keeping their bodies close, trying to leach as much body heat from Harry as he could before he purposefully kissed lower, lightly sucking in the crease of Harry’s hips, moving his legs to settle in between Harry’s, lifting Harry’s leg up at the knee to kiss - and scratch - his way down the inside of his thigh. He could hear Harry breathing softly and evenly, sighing when Louis kissed over a particularly red mark his beard left behind. 

Louis took a deep breath and licked Harry’s balls, then licked a stripe up the vein on Harry’s dick, twisting towards Harry’s head and taking him down in a remarkably smooth movement. Louis had exchanged blowjobs with Nathan a few times, but that was well over a year ago and Louis was sure his technique back then wasn’t anything to write home about. 

Louis got caught up in his self-congratulation and coughed as he took Harry down too far. Harry let out a groan and bucked his hips, making Louis sputter as he tried to breathe. He pulled off and used his spit as lube, working Harry over with his hand while he caught his breath. 

“Sorry.” 

“No. No, it’s good.” Harry’s arm was back on his forehead as his chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. 

Louis took him back down, working the bottom of Harry’s dick with his hand while he licked and sucked at his head, breaking his rhythm a few times to stroke Harry’s balls. 

It was slippery and wet and messy, and Louis had to pull off to breathe a few more times, but it wasn’t long before he felt Harry’s breath shorten, his stomach tightening as he gasped, “Lou - Louis - I’m close.” 

Louis sat up and worked his hand over Harry’s dick more roughly, squeezing at the head and twisting his wrist on the way down. It was only a few strokes before Harry’s thighs were quaking and come spilled over Louis’ hand. 

Louis had often watched Harry in repose - when he was relaxed, Louis was hard pressed to find anything more beautiful. But this, Harry’s eyes closed and his face turned to the side, his arm above his head, the pale underside of his bicep exposed, his lips wet and red and slightly parted as he breathed heavily through his orgasm, was on another plane. 

Louis took his come-covered hand and began tugging himself, eager to get off before the heady cloud around them dissipated. He closed his eyes as warmth began to fizzle in his veins, pleasure building as he felt Harry’s hand join his on his dick. 

“I wanted to suck you,” Harry whined. 

Louis let go and let Harry work him over. “Nex - next time,” he stuttered, “H, H, I’m so close.” Louis held Harry’s hips as he started thrusting into Harry’s hand, spilling onto Harry’s stomach as his orgasm crested over him like a wave, pulling his body tight before expanding and releasing as the tide pulls away before crashing onto shore.   

They lay next to each other as they came down from their orgasms, sticky with come and still wrong-side-up on the bed. Louis closed his eyes, lulled by Harry’s chest rising and falling with each breath. He would have drifted off for a nap, except he felt Harry’s breathing stutter and then

“That wasn’t your first time, was it. With a guy, I mean.”

Louis blinked his eyes open and stared down the plane of Harry’s abs to his softening cock and red-bitten thighs. He sighed.

“No.” He started tracing an aimless pattern on Harry’s ribs. “You?”

Harry exhaled as his fingertips drifted up and down Louis’ spine. “Yeah. Who - “

“Nathan. He was in my priesthood classes.” 

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” 

“What happened there?” 

Louis shrugged as best he could, nestled into Harry’s side. “What you’d expect. Someone found out, Church discipline, his family started going to a new ward. The usual.” 

“Doesn’t sound so usual.” 

Louis huffed a small laugh. “Which part?” 

“Any of it, really.” 

“Yeah, well,” Louis was still fingering over Harry’s ribs, “it is what it is.” 

 \--

Saturday morning they walked to the farmer’s market after breakfast and prayer. Harry had stopped at a vendor to smell some homemade bar shampoos. “Think of all the plastic bottles I’d be saving, Lou!” he argued, but Louis wasn’t convinced. His gaze started wandering and he saw, at the corner of the sidewalk at the end of the row of vendors, a pay phone. 

_ A pay phone. _

Louis started walking away from Harry, still engrossed in chatting with the soap maker. “Harry, I’ll - I’ll be back in a few.”

Louis reached the pay phone and stood examining it for a moment. He lifted the receiver and listened to the dial tone, staring at the keypad. He fished around for two quarters in his pocket and carefully put them into the phone, each clink of the coins and then each low beep of his mom’s phone number bringing him one step closer to something he still wasn’t quite sure was an end or a beginning. 

The line rang once, twice, and after the third ring Louis began to worry he had worked up his nerve for the spontaneous phone call for nothing. Who knows what his family was doing the Saturday after Thanksgiving? Of course they’d be out, what with all the extended Black Friday sales the stores do nowadays, and the local parade - Fizzy was almost definitely marching with the band - why did he think - 

“Hello, Tomlinson residence.” 

Louis gasped. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, mom.” He paused for a moment. “It’s Louis.”

“Louis! Oh, Louis of course I’d know it’s you. I wasn’t expecting you to call. Did the President give you all special privileges this weekend? I didn’t think we’d hear from you until Christmas! What a nice surprise. How are you? Is your companion ok? Tell me everything. Did you get those wool long johns? I worry about you; it’s supposed to get so cold at night there in the winter.”

“Yeah, mom, they’re great. Listen, I’m on a pay phone. I don’t have a lot of time - “

“A pay phone? Why are you at a pay phone? Are you okay? They even have those anymore? I hoped you wiped it down before you called, honey. Who knows what germs those carry!”

“Mom I need to talk you. We didn’t get special privileges this weekend. I’m not supposed to be calling.”

Louis could almost feel his mother’s excitement ebbing, her thoughts slowing down. 

“Boo bear, is everything alright?”

“Yes. Maybe. Depends.” 

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong, what’s going on? You have me worried.”

“You know my missionary companion, Harry?”

“You wrote about him, yes, he seems lovely. Did he do something to you?”

Louis thought about last night and struggles not to laugh. 

“No, not exactly. Mom - I’m gay. I’m gay, and I’m in love with Harry, and I think I want to leave the Church, maybe.” 

Louis hears the scrape of the kitchen chair, his mother probably sitting down to consider what Louis spilled, the words having come out in a rush. If he had stopped to think about what to say, he would have never said anything at all. 

The silence stretched on and Louis suddenly became acutely aware of the limited time he had. 

“Mom?” He started to panic. His mom had been kind and loving during the debacle with Nathan and the therapy and the Disciplinary Council meetings, but maybe that was because Louis was being disciplined, doing the right thing after being caught, asking for atonement. Maybe she didn’t, wouldn’t, love him if he was actually gay. 

“Mom?” Louis’ voice rose in pitch. 

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m here, this is just a lot. Are you ok?”

Louis wanted to scream. No, he wasn’t okay. Of course, he wasn’t okay; he just came out to his mother and proposed leaving their entire faith, their culture, the religion he was out here all alone in the middle of southwestern Colorado  _ trying to convince people to join _ . Sure, yes, he was totally fine. He looked up to the sky, blue and cloudless and crisp, trying to keep his voice steady enough to reply. 

Swallowing, he said, “Not really, mom, I don’t know what to do. I love you and Dad and the girls and I want my own family and I want to be a family forever. I love church, I want to get sealed in the Temple.”

He took a deep breath, prepared to go on, but his mom cut in.

“Louis, you don’t have to decide anything now, focus on your mission, we can talk at Christmas, okay? You can’t have much time left on that phone.” As if on cue, an automated voice requested more funds to continue the call. Louis fumbled in his pockets for another quarter, trying to hold the slippery phone tight between his ear and his shoulder. As he twisted, he realized Harry was standing next to him, holding out a quarter. He sighed gratefully as he took it and put it into the phone. 

“It’s fine, mom, Harry had another quarter, I have a few more minutes.”

Harry wandered a respectable distance away, in Louis’ eyesight but out of earshot, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stood in the vacant lot abutting the farmer’s market. He was clutching a small brown paper bag and a bouquet of flowers in one hand and drinking from a smoothie in the other. How were his hands not freezing? Louis realized his mom had been talking and re-focused. Coming out. Leaving the church. Temple sealing. Right.

“And regardless, of course we love you; is it okay if I tell your dad? We had talked, you know, when you were in trouble last year and going to all those meetings, and we love you exactly how you are, both of us, you know that, right?” 

Louis sniffed; if his mother heard and asked he’d blame it on the wind starting to whip up around them. He’d had a runny nose 24/7 this fall. 

“Uh, yeah.” He swallowed thickly and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “But like, it’s okay if I leave? If I want to be with Harry?”

“Yes, Louis, above all your father and I want you and your sisters to be happy. Are you thinking about leaving your mission?”

Louis looked over the vacant field, to Harry shivering as he finished his smoothie, the pink-tinged mountains rising up behind the small town, a few puffy clouds coming in, moving over the mountains slowly. He missed his life back home, he wanted nothing more than a hug from his mom, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to give up this missionary experience yet. 

“No, not right now.” 

“Okay boo bear, keep praying and writing home and we’ll talk more at Christmas, ok? We love you.” 

The automated voice cut in again. 

“I have to go Mom, love you, talk to you soon.” 

The call disconnected and Louis hung up the receiver. He watched Harry chasing down the last melted bits of his smoothie with his straw as the clouds cast shadows on the mountains. The overwhelming beauty of his environment did not help his disbelief that his mother took that phone call so well, that she still loved him - would still love him - after all this. It felt unreal, that he would have arrived in one of the most beautiful places in the world to find someone even more beautiful, as if God himself had rearranged the universe to bring him to this particular companion, to  _ Harry _ , in this particular place. 

Louis took a deep breath and tasted salt. He furiously rubbed away the tears he didn’t realize had fallen and ran towards his companion, shouting, “Harry! What’s taking you so long!” 

\--

Harry turned around to find Louis running towards him. “Harry! What’s taking you so long!” as if Harry was the one making his covert phone calls to his mom. Louis immediately launched into complaints about the cold and “promise me you’ll never make me leave the bed again this winter” (not if Harry could help it) and “Harry do you think if we pushed our beds together we’d be warmer, the wall is freezing” (Harry thought it was absolutely worth a try).  

It turns out Louis wasn’t idly curious about that last one; as soon as they arrived home he got started rearranging their furniture in the bedroom and sorting out the best way to push their twin beds together in their small room but still open their dresser drawers all the way. Harry left him to his joy and started opening the cabinets, looking for something to put his bouquet in. He never considered floral bouquets a winter type of thing, but he loved the ornamental cabbage one he found. Harry found a tall plastic pitcher and began filling it up with lukewarm water. He’d have to get some holly for the apartment once it got closer to Christmas. 

Apparently in his bed re-arranging Louis ended up displeased with the state of their sheets. Harry caught him out of the corner of his eye carrying a bundle of linens to the communal laundry room. Finished with his floral arranging, Harry started opening the cabinets, softly singing to himself  _ oh don’t you dare look back/just keep your eyes on me/i said you’re holding back/she said shut up and dance with me _ , and got started on a navy bean stew before Niall and Liam came over for dinner. 

He was chopping garlic while the oil in the pot heated up when Louis came back upstairs, followed by Liam and Niall. They were talking animatedly about the BYU-Utah State game from earlier in the day. Liam settled on the couch while Louis went into the bedroom and pulled out the “emergency radio” his mom had sent him “in case of a disaster.” Harry had his suspicions Louis had written home about how listening to college football on Saturdays would help him “find joy,” but he wasn’t about to be hypocritical. Harry heard him come back into the living room, cranking the battery to power it up for Oklahoma-Oklahoma State. Liam came from a long line of Sooners and with both teams ranked in the top 25, he had been looking forward to this game all week. 

Niall joined Harry at the stove, eating from the chopped parsley Harry had set aside. “Hey!” he smacked Niall lightly with the spoon, “You’re taking all that parsley. That parsley’s a garnish!”

“Yeah,” Niall smirked as he reached for more, “means it’s not important and I can eat all of it.” 

Harry moved the bowl to the other side of the counter and went back to the stew. 

“You’re lucky I was going to leave you alone to go to the bathroom anyway,” Niall threw over his shoulder on the way into the bathroom. Which, Harry realized too late, was through his and Louis’ bedroom. Where Louis had just rearrange the furniture to put their beds together. He whipped his head up and turned around, spoon dripping chicken broth onto the floor, but Niall had disappeared. 

Maybe he didn’t notice? Maybe he didn’t care? Harry had planned on keeping whatever he and Louis were doing between themselves; he would have confided in Liam and Niall but for the meeting at the President’s a few weeks ago. 

Harry heard Niall stop in the living room to harass Louis during a commercial break to find LSU-Texas A&M. “C’mon Lou, just for a minute, that game started nearly an hour ago! I just want to know the score!” 

“Niall I don’t hear the magic words.” 

“Louis, it would give me great joy to know if LSU is kicking Aggie butt.”

“Much better.”

Eventually Niall found his joy and joined Harry in the kitchen again. He waited until there was a roar - a big first down maybe, not enough incoherence for a score - and lowered his voice as he asked Harry, “So what’s with the furniture in the bedroom?”

Harry decided to see how long he could play dumb for. “Furniture?”

“Yeah, Harry, looks like there’s been some rearranging since the last time we were over.” 

“Oh I don’t know, Louis and I were in the mood for something new.” 

“I know missionary companions are supposed to be close to each other, Harry, but you don’t think sleeping next to each is maybe a little too close?”

Harry hummed. 

Niall went on. “I mean….Liam’s my best friend, I don’t mind being with him all the time, and I mostly like being with him all the time, but I certainly can go 8 hours with him sleeping 10 feet away from me. Unlike you and Louis, apparently.”

“Louis’ my best friend, too.”

Niall silently raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, maybe he’s more than my best friend. I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it, exactly.”

“Haven’t talked about what, exactly?”

Harry decided this was an opportune time to closely examine the stew’s progress. “We’ve been….making out. Hooking up, whatever you want to call it, with each other. ” 

“You’ve been what? Since when? How did that start?” 

Harry sighed. It was hard to pinpoint how it started, or even when. He knew Niall meant the physical aspect, but from the moment he had opened the door upon Louis’ arrival Harry had been on one long descent to this point, a natural transition from complete strangers to feeling Louis’ heart inside of Harry’s own that had no mile markers, no landmarks. 

“Um, well, we first kissed a couple months ago - “

“A couple months ago? And you didn’t tell me?” Niall hissed through clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice down during a lull in the radio action.

Harry cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, you know it’s not like we were going to go tell everyone, especially not after President Abbott made the consequences clear. It’s a sin and we’d be disciplined, probably sent home, if he found out. Neither of us want that.” 

“You could have trusted Liam and I. You can trust Liam and I.”

Harry felt sheepish. He trusted Niall and Liam, but there was something so delicate about what he and Louis had, living together in their missionary bubble in Cortez, finding joy in their faith, the landscape, in the time they spent together, in their bodies. He was afraid a small ripple would destroy the stillness. 

“You can talk to me about anything, you know that H, right? Even this. I won’t even tell Liam if you want.”

Harry heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I know. It’s fine, Liam can know, Louis might’ve told him already. We haven’t talked about it.”

“Just doin’ it, huh?” Niall wiggled his eyebrows.

Harry lightly snorted. “Yeah.” 

He thought back to what he overhead from Louis’ conversation with his mom, about wanting to get sealed in the temple, being in the celestial kingdom with his family. Truth be told, Harry hadn’t thought that hard about what being in a relationship with Louis - if that’s what they were doing. What were they doing? - would mean outside of their time together in Cortez. He remembered the President’s meeting, but the real world felt so distant from their experience. They didn’t have to deal with it right now.  

“Look, you keep making me these amazing dinners, I’ll listen to you talk about Louis’ eyelashes, or whatever people in love do, ok? Is it ready? I’m starving and this smells amazing.” 

Harry smiled. “Yeah yeah Niall, it’s ready, calm down. Grab some spoons and get Liam and Louis.” 

\--

Their first p-day in December, Monday the 7th, Harry and Louis set to work decorating their small apartment for Christmas. It was later in the season to get his holiday ornamentation up than Harry preferred, but he and Louis had been rather caught up in….other enjoyments, and hadn’t found time to browse the seasonal aisle at WalMart. They also had maybe exaggerated their limited budgets in letters home, and waited for packages to arrive from their mothers with holiday decorations before they headed to the store. 

When the mail had arrived the week after Thanksgiving, the boys tore into their respective boxes, eager for their early holiday surprises. Harry sliced through the tape and found a poster-sized homemade felt Advent calendar, a few days late but appreciated nonetheless, especially the full size Cadbury bar on day 7. His mom loved to order British chocolate online; she spent her mission in Brighton and turned up her nose at Hershey ever since. 

Harry unwrapped the candy bar and took a bite as he rustled through the rest of the box. Some fake holly, just like he hinted, one each of a cinnamon and pine scented candle, and a length of twinkle lights. At the bottom of the box was another folded felt rectangle, this one red to Harry’s green. Harry tilted his head, chocolate held between his teeth, as he unfolded it. It was another Advent calendar, same as Harry’s but with a script  _ Louis  _ across the top in silver thread. 

Harry looked up to see Louis across their double bed lifting a stocking out of his box. 

“Hey, Lou - “

“Oh, H - “ 

Louis lifted his head at the same time, hand outstretched holding an embroidered stocking. It had a snowed-in cabin nestled in pine trees, windows lit with a warm glow, and a blue velvet hook to go on the mantle. 

They spoke at the same time again 

“My mom - “

“Mom made you - “

“My mom got you a stocking too. Her note says to hang them up and not to peek until Christmas, although she absolutely knows I won’t wait that long.” 

Louis reached across the bed, the midafternoon sun dappling across the rumpled duvet and lighting his face as he leaned towards Harry, stocking in hand. 

“When we were kids, mom made Gemma and I these felt Advent calendars. She filled mine and sent it out, but I think she made one for you too.”

They traded items over the bed and Harry took a peek inside the stocking - darn, Mrs. Tomlinson had wrapped everything. 

Harry looked around at everything unpacked on the bed and felt a little let down; he had been hoping a note from his mom would help cure the restlessness itching inside him since Thanksgiving. He picked up the box again and did a thorough search and found, wedged underneath an inner flap, a card in a brown kraft paper envelope. Spirits lifted, Harry sat on the bed and tore the envelope open. Reindeer lightly glittered on the front and inside his mom had written

_ Happy early Christmas, Harry! There’s another box on its way with Christmas gifts from the whole family, but I wanted to make sure you and Elder Tomlinson could get into the holiday spirit. It wouldn’t do to have two missionaries for the Savior coming home to a dreary home during His season! I hope you don’t mind I made Elder Tomlinson an Advent calendar too. I thought he’d like to share in the daily joy with you.  _

  _I can’t wait to hear your voice soon! Love,_

_ Mom _

Harry swallowed. Although Gemma had been integral to his happiness on his mission, he hadn’t told his mom about finding joy. Had his mom picked up on how happy Louis made him? Harry was embarrassed to admit how pleased her gifted advent calendar made him. Even if she thought they were nothing more than platonic spiritual companions, her desire to include Louis in their family holiday traditions put a soft smile on his face. 

Gathering the holly and twinkle lights, Harry headed into the living to discuss decor arrangements with Louis. He found his companion already moving lamps around the end tables trying to find a space to put the miniature tree his mother had sent. Harry dragged a kitchen chair into the living room and stood on it to drape the holly garland around the picture window facing the balcony. He was arranging it  _ just so _ when Louis spoke up from behind him.

“What do you think about leaving the Church?”

Harry paused, precariously balanced on the chair. 

“I can’t say I ever really thought about it.”

Harry stayed frozen to wait for Louis’ response, afraid another bombshell question would make him stumble off his chair.

“Really? Never? Even after you realized you were gay?”

Harry was very glad he hadn’t moved. 

He coughed. 

“Uh, well, I can’t say I had thought too much about that either. I mean, if I’m gay. I’ve dated girls before and liked them. I wasn’t about to label anything just because I was suddenly thinking about boys, too.”

“You mean thinking about me.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to answer that. 

“Yes?”

“But if we don’t leave the Church how can we be together?”

“We’re together now, though, aren’t we? All the time, in every way.”

“Not the way that’s important,” Louis insisted.

Harry left the holly hanging down the middle of the window and stepped off the chair. 

“This isn’t important to you? Louis, we share every moment of our lives together, I love you. You are the most important thing to me. What could possibly be more important to you than this?” 

“I - I love you too, H, but we can’t love each other and be sealed in the Temple or be together as a family for eternity.”

Harry had a sudden flashback to Thanksgiving weekend, and the bit of the phone call to Louis’ mom he overhead. 

“Is that what this is about? You need to figure out forever right now?”

“I don’t need to figure out forever but I want to know if forever is a possibility.”

“Louis, we’re on our mission. You’re 21 years old. What’s so urgent? We’re happy, right? What about ‘finding joy’ together? What are you so worried about?”

“Harry, I’ve done this before, remember? Nathan?” 

“Wait, like, sex? You’re worried about having sex with me?”

 Louis sighed and looked defeated. 

 "No, I mean like - can we sit down? I feel ridiculous.”

To be fair, Harry thought, he had looked a little ridiculous this whole time, trying to have a serious conversation while juggling a handful of ornaments for the end table tree. Harry moved to the couch and sat facing the center cushion, left leg folded under him. Louis sat against the opposite arm, legs pulled up to his chest. He started picking at his knee. 

“Soooooo,” Harry prompted. 

Louis heaved out a long breath. “Do you know anyone who’s been disciplined? In the Church, I mean. Formally.”

“No, not really. Gemma’s best friend’s older sister was caught drinking once, I think, but I was young. I don’t remember the specifics.”

“It’s not fun. All these strange men ask you a bunch of invasive questions and you can’t decide if being honest or lying is going to get you out of trouble faster, and the entire fate of your family in eternity rests on whether they’re satisfied with you.” 

Harry sat stone-still as Louis recounted the aftermath of getting caught with Nathan - meetings with the Disciplinary Council, therapy sessions that were likely reported back to the Council, the one on one meetings with the Bishop to prove himself worthy of a temple recommend and a missionary call. 

“I don’t want to go through that again, H. I can’t. And on top of that, the new handbook change that everyone’s been talking about? What if we were excommunicated? I can’t leave my family.”

“Louis, we’re here. Now. On earth, together. I want to get into the celestial kingdom as much as the next person but isn’t part of getting there being our best selves today? We won’t even know if we’re there until we’re dead!”

“That’s the whole point!” Louis exploded. “It’s for eternity! Don’t you want to be with your family for eternity, too?”

“Maybe we’re a family!” Harry shot back. “Or maybe we’re not,” he backtracked a bit, “but one day you might want someone else to be your family. And that person is probably going to be another guy. Are you really going to give up any hope of a joyful partnership with someone you love to be with your parents and siblings after you’re all dead?” 

“I love you, though.”

“I’m still not seeing the issue here!”

“The Church won’t let us be in love.”

“It seems like we are, and it’s working out alright. What are you going to do about it? Go home?”

Louis started picking at his knee again and retreated a bit. “Maybe.” 

“Louis. I love you too. I love finding joy with you. We’re here together, now. Can we just enjoy this and figure out the rest later? We have our entire lives.”

Louis kept picking his knee silently. “I’m afraid everyone I love will leave me if I leave the Church,” he whispered. 

Harry hadn’t wanted to let on that he had overhead part of Louis’ phone call with his mom, but it was probably time to spill the beans. 

“What did your mom say when you talked to her over Thanksgiving?” 

Louis didn’t seem surprised Harry knew what that was about. 

“She said she and Dad still love me no matter what,” he muttered, “and that I didn’t have to decide anything now, and we’d talk at Christmas.” 

Louis raised his voice again. “Although that’s likely impossible, it’s not like I can talk about kissing my companion on the phone in the President’s house sitting room.”

“So we’ll get to that pay phone again and talk to her more. We’ll hustle some extra quarters from Liam and Niall.” Harry moved across the couch and settled cross-legged facing Louis, rubbing his arm. “C’mere.” 

He pulled Louis out of his protective position and they awkwardly embraced, tangled up together. Harry stroked Louis’ hair, murmuring into his ear, “We’re fine, you’re fine, I love you. Let’s find some joy together, yeah?” Harry kissed Louis’ temple. 

Louis moved his head away and looked at Harry silently for a moment and then kissed him deeply on the lips. He pulled away.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”  

He kissed Harry again and pushed him backwards, barely breaking the kiss between them. Harry lay on the couch with Louis between his legs, Louis’ weight on his chest a comfort after their strained conversation. He stroked Louis’ back, feeling the curve of his waist and the dip at his lower back. Harry moved his hand up the plane of Louis’ back, burrowing his hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. He was so pleased to be close to Louis, blissed out just laying together and kissing, and he thought to himself, “I could do this forever.” 

Louis chose that moment to grind down on Harry, sparking pleasure in his dick. “Okay,” he thought, “I could definitely do this forever.” Harry felt himself stiffening in his pants, and he lifted his hips, looking for more friction.

“Hmmmpphhh, yeah.”

They spent the early evening that way, lazily kissing and touching and grinding, until Harry decided to take them somewhere. He gripped Louis’ bum and lifted his hips with purpose, moving their dicks together with intent. Louis moaned into his mouth and responded by grinding back down on Harry, moving in a figure eight on Harry’s lap. They continued like this, their rhythm gaining in intensity and their chorus of pants and moans and oh’s growing louder and more cacophonous until they both stuttered and held still. Louis collapsed on Harry as Harry gripped his back, hips seeking more and more as the slow-building bubbles in his veins finally reached their zenith and popped, sending hot pleasure all through his body. He slumped back on the couch, Louis still covering him. 

They lay there kissing gently for another moment or two, until Louis lay his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“We just dry humped like teenagers, didn’t we?” Louis asked. 

“Hey, some of us are teenagers,” Harry playfully hit Louis’ side as Louis giggled. 

Harry leaned his head all the way back on the couch cushion and closed his eyes. “I can’t wait for you to fuck me.” 

His eyes flew open. Oh. He….definitely didn’t mean to say that out loud. 

Louis tilted his head up at Harry. “Yeah?” 

Harry swallowed. They were just going to go with this, then. “Yeah.”

“Alright. Nathan and I never got that far. We need to buy some lube, I think. And probably condoms. Maybe on our next Mission District trip to Durango we can pretend we have a meeting with Jane’s sister and slip away.”

Harry nuzzled the top of Louis’ head. “Sneaky. Does Jane even have a sister?” 

“Who knows. Anything to find more joy with you.”  

“You know what would give me joy right now, though?”

“What?”

“Another kiss, clean garments, and you helping me with finishing up the decorating.”

Louis leaned up and smacked a dramatic, wet kiss on Harry’s lips. “Done.” 

\--

“Oh, hey, Liam,” Louis struggled to keep his voice normal, “do you or Niall have any quarters?” The boys were all together for what had become their weekly p-day dinners. They had settled into a routine of Monday p-days, and this was the last one before Christmas. The week leading up to Christmas was one of the busiest for the missionaries, and except for Louis’ birthday dinner on the 24th, this was likely this was the last time the companion pairs would see each other before Christmas dinner at President Abbott’s. Louis wanted to call his mom before then. 

“Yeah, probably,” Liam said around a mouthful of food. “H, this lasagna is amazing.” 

Across the table from Louis, Harry beamed, and Louis smiled back at him proudly. 

“Awesome, thanks, Liam. Can you bring them to my birthday dinner on Thursday?”

Liam was cutting through the steaming layers of meat sauce, noodles, and cheese. “Sure. What’s the rush?”

“Oh, Harry and I are just drowning in piles of laundry, right, H?” 

Harry made vague noises of assent through his own mouthful of carbohydrate and cheesy goodness. 

Niall frowned. “And you have to do it on Christmas Eve?” 

Liam looked up as well. “Lou, we just went to the laundromat last p-day. You never need to go two weeks in a row. It’s winter, what do you have to wash?” 

“Uh, well, you know, we just wanted to be freshened up for the holiday,” Harry jumped in. 

“Again, and you just need to do this Christmas Eve?” Niall asked, “Is the laundromat even going to be open after dinner?”

This plan was unraveling before they could even get it started. “Well, I mean, surely there’s a 24 hour one….” Harry was clearly grasping at straws. To be honest, the missionaries assigned to Cortez were lucky there was a laundromat at all, the town was so small. 

Louis sighed. “I want to call my mom.”

Liam looked at him quizzically. “But, Louis, we’re going to get to call our parents the next day. Do you even know where a pay phone is in this town? Why wouldn’t you wait until President Abbott’s?”

“What I want to talk to my mom about I can’t talk about at the President’s.” Louis realized the whole story was going to have to come out. “I think I might want to leave the mission. Maybe.” 

The entire table fell silent, except for Harry, who had his head down and continued scraping his fork around his plate, chasing the last bits of sauce. 

“You what?” “Why?” the other pair demanded simultaneously. 

“I don’t know! I’m not even sure what I want to do! That’s why I want to talk to my mom!” 

“Harry, would you leave with him?”

Harry finally looked up from his plate. He looked to Niall, waiting for answer, and then at Louis. “I don’t know. I didn’t know that’s what you wanted to talk to your mom about, Louis.”

Louis was stunned. “What did you think I wanted to talk to her about?”

Forgetting they had an audience, Harry threw up his hands. “I didn’t realize you wanted to go home! I thought you were going to talk to her about leaving the Church when we were done, I thought we were going to stay here, be happy together here. What happened to finding joy?”

“What if I wanted to find joy somewhere else with you?”

“And you’re choosing now to tell me this?” 

“Hey, hey, guys,” Liam cut in softly, reaching across the table to put his hand on Louis’ forearm, which was tensed with stress. “No one has to decide anything now. Louis, talk to your mom and see what she thinks and then you guys can talk about it. Do you want to go home?”

“I don’t know,” Louis responded softly.

“Do you want to leave the Church?” Niall asked. 

“Maybe. I think so. I mean, I’m gay. If I’m going to have a family it’s going to be with another guy, so. It’s not like we can get sealed in the Temple or anything. What’s the point in staying? If I’m going to live outside the scripture might as well go scorched earth.” 

“I wouldn’t think of it like that,” Liam said thoughtfully. “Just because you leave the Mormon church doesn’t mean you can’t still have a relationship with God. People change faiths all the time. We’re out here to convince people to do it!”

“Just maybe in the opposite direction,” Niall interjected. 

“Fair, but my point stands.” Louis had to laugh at Liam’s earnestness. “No, really, Lou, if you’re unhappy, why stay?” Liam shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth. 

“I mean, I’m not unhappy, I just don’t see the point in staying here telling people to join a religion I’m just going to leave myself when I get home. I have a whole year and a half left! That’s a long time to lie to people.”

“What about you, Harry?” Niall turned toward Harry. Louis was interested to see what Harry had to say; he had been notably silent through all of this. 

“Um. Well. Lou and I had talked about leaving the church one day maybe. I hadn’t really made up my mind though. I don’t have as long left at my mission as Lou, I was going probably going to finish up here. See how going home felt.” Louis felt Harry’s arms moving beside him, creasing and un-creasing the cloth napkin in his lap (another environmentally friendly choice from the farmer’s market). Louis slid his hand down Harry’s arm, grabbing his hand to calm his movements. 

“Well whatever you guys decide I think it’ll be fine,” Niall shrugged. “Honestly both your families sound awesome, I wish mine were as easy to talk to as yours. Just let us know before you go, yeah?” 

“Of course Nialler, as if we’d leave without another p-day dinner,” Harry scoffed. “I still haven’t made my mom’s stuffed peppers for you.”


	4. Let the mountains shout for joy

Louis dialed the last few digits of his mother’s home phone number and held his breath as the call connected. Harry was hanging over his shoulder, eager to say hello to Louis’ family. After Thanksgiving he had started exchanging letters with Louis’ mom and drawings from the babies littered their fridge in Cortez.

“Back off, weirdo, there are people around,” Louis hissed over his shoulder. Harry took a half step back but didn’t look at all apologetic. He had been bouncing with excitement for well over a week now, his enthusiasm for Christmas reaching levels that almost had Louis concerned. 

“I can’t wait to say hello!”

“It’s my family! I’ll be saying hello first.”

“Tomlinson residence,” a light but assured voice answered. Louis whipped back around to the mounted phone, Harry wasting no time crowding behind him again. 

“Daisy?” 

“LOUIS! We’ve been waiting all day! Mom said when you called we had to tell you we love you.”

Louis heard more voices coming down the line. “Is that Louis?”

“Does Mom know?” 

“HI LOUIS I LOVE YOU!”

“I have to run and get Mom.”

“Shh he’s talking to ME.” The furor stopped and Louis could hear the sanctimony in Daisy’s voice as she wished him, “Merry Christmas, Lou. Happy birthday.” 

He laughed. “Merry Christmas, Dais. What did Santa bring?”

“Lou, Santa isn’t real.” He could practically hear the eye roll. “I’m not one of the babies.”

“Of course not, of course not, I’m sorry. What did you get this year?” 

Daisy began rattling off her gifts, Louis making approving noises. She had moved onto describing their Christmas dinner when another voice came on the phone. “Daisy we have the same thing every year, he doesn’t care about that, Louis I want to hear about being a missionary! How’s your companion? Is he terrible? Remember when - “ 

Louis could barely keep up as the two girls talked over each other. Finally his mother’s stern voice drowned out the noise. “Girls! Everyone off the phone! I need to talk to Louis and then you’ll each have your turn.”

The girls groaned and Louis heard a click as the extension in his parents’ bedroom hung up. It was quiet except for the excited cheers of “Merry Christmas!” as other families greeted each other behind Louis. 

“Louis, dear? Are you still here?”

“Hi, mom.”

“Merry Christmas Louis! Happy birthday! What are you and Harry up to today? We were expecting you to call much earlier.”

“Sorry mom, I meant to, but we weren’t able to make calls earlier.” 

“We? Is Harry with you? It’d be so nice to say hello!”

“You can in about 30 minutes, mom, if you come get us at the airport.” 


	5. Bonus Art!

[tomlinshires](tomlinshires.tumblr.com) made this incredible inspiration art, and then made the art in chapter 2 specifically for this fic! Make sure to drop her a line and tell her if you love it!

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/137527608@N05/37753748311/in/dateposted-public/)

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, you can reblog a post [here,](http://polkadotsvstripes.tumblr.com/post/166492390018/in-this-life-i-shall-have-joy-written-by) and there's one from the artist [here!](http://tomlinshires.tumblr.com/post/166509489125/in-this-life-i-shall-have-joy-art-by) Come say hi over on [tumblr](http://polkadotsvstripes.tumblr.com) <3


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